


Bound to Possibility

by Cornerofmadness



Series: The Ties that Bind [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Good Parent Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Trauma Recovery, harm to children (referenced)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Months after Gil foiled Martin Whitly’s attempt to kill his son to silence him, Gil is finally able to see the boy again. All Malcolm has wanted was to see the man who saved his life and the boy is over the moon to finally get his chance.
Series: The Ties that Bind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002873
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Bound to Possibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cozy_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** Written for cozy_coffee in comment_fic for the prompt any, any, “Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'!” ― Audrey Hepburn. 
> 
> This is a sequel to [ Bound By Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386447) which is an extremely dark story so read those tags carefully. If you’d rather not read something that dark, all you need to know is these stories are canon divergent. Martin did try to kill Malcolm in the woods but was stopped by Gil but not before he sliced through Malcolm’s voice box. This story is nowhere near as dark but it does deal with trauma recovery.

Gil had never been let into a home by a maid before. He barely had time to process the surrealism of it all, the juxtaposition of his middle-class self in his best dockers and sweater and the sage green foyer with ornate crown molding leading deeper into the house before the maid beckoned him to follow. Jessica Whitly met him in the doorway of a living room filled with creamy white furniture he was afraid to touch. She pressed a finger to her lip as if she expected him to loudly greet her. Hell, he felt like he was in a museum. It was a room that begged him to speak in whispers so not to disturb the atmosphere.

“I’m so glad you came, Gil.” She reached a hand out to him.

Gil took it, trying not to stare. She’d aged in the months since he last saw her, and who could blame her with everything the police and the media had done to her since her husband’s arrest? He doubted her friends had been much better. Even her family didn’t really want to know her. She had told him that much in their brief correspondence. Still, her long fall of walnut hair, her high cheekbones and sophisticated dress made her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. “I’m glad it’s finally possible.”

“I still see no reason that the court prevented you from talking to us.” She flapped a hand dismissively.

“They don’t want to risk any…influences,” he replied, knowing it had been explained well to her. He had saved her son’s life and arrested her husband. For months, all Malcolm had wanted was to see Gil again. Jessica assured him that he was Malcolm’s hero. But the courts had prevented him from having anything to do with the Whitlys, barely allowing the emails to go back and forth and even those had to go through the prosecutor’s office after Jessica’s influence and lawyers had pressured the D.A. into allowing it. His heart ached for the little boy who’d been so horribly injured by his father only to go through an equally brutal interrogation by a couple of detectives who were convinced Malcolm had helped his father in his killings. Asking to see the man who had saved his life seemed like a simple thing but nothing was simple in the court of law.

Gil had been told far too many details about Martin Whitly’s crimes by Aimee Dickinson, a detective he was friendly with. He wanted to swoop in and take Malcolm away from all this but he couldn’t even speak to the boy. The only good thing to happen was the trial aborted abruptly after Whitly had been deemed insane and sent to Claremont. The fact that the trial happened in months instead of a year or more after the fact spoke to how different the rich were. Even their justice was different but Gil wasn’t arguing it. He was cleared to talk to the family again now that Whitly was going to be in the asylum for the criminally insane for life. 

However, he wasn’t seeing the whole of the family at the moment. There were no signs that children even lived here. Did the maid he’d seen just run after them cleaning up constantly or were there rooms in the house they weren’t permitted in. Gil glanced around the room, seeing far too many breakable antiques. That latter thought seemed likely. “How is he? How’s Ainsley?”

“She’s out at a princess party with the au pair today. I still have one or two friends who don’t believe in penalizing my children for their father’s crimes.” Weariness hung on every word.

“I’m sorry.” 

She waved him off. “You have nothing to do with any of that, Gil. You’re the bright light in our lives right now. Malcolm is in the game room. I didn’t tell him you were coming today. I didn’t want to get his hopes up between how busy your job is and what if the courts changed their mind?”

“That’s fine. I wanted to bring him something but I didn’t know what he might like.”

Jessica cupped his shoulder. “You don’t ever need to bring him gifts. Just being here is enough but he likes to read. He’s voracious. He reads at a high school level.”

“Smart boy.”

“Like you don’t know. And did I hear right? You’re being promoted to detective.”

He nodded, his cheeks heating up. He hated that her misfortune had turned into his promotion. “I’m on my last week in uniform.”

Jessica smiled at him, warming him. “I’m glad. At least something good came from all this nightmare. Come on, the game room is this way.”

At least she found his promotion to be a positive and not him riding all this horror to glory. She led him through her showplace home. The kids seriously must have dedicated play areas because none of this could be considered child friendly. Malcolm had his back to the doorway, his attention on a large TV and the gaming console he had in hand. Now this room was a place for kids, soft comfy looking couches, no breakables, and a sense of disorder. It looked like his cat, Phantom, had paid them a visit and knocked things everywhere as Phantom was wont to do.

Jessica leaned close, her shoulder pressing into his. “Legend of Zelda. He has become obsessed with it. He wanted to play Resident Evil but I told him that’s too old for him and too scary and violent. I bought him something called Pokémon to play next. It seemed less violent or at least less real-human violent.”

“I understand.”

She smiled again and stepped into the room. “Malcolm, you have a visitor.”

He paused the game before looking over his shoulder. His eyes widened and he exploded off the floor. He plowed into Gil, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Gil lifted him, holding him tight. Malcolm trembled against him, crying. Gil rubbed his back. “It’s okay, Malcolm,” he whispered. “I can be here when you need me now.”

Gil tried to put the boy down but Malcolm wouldn’t let go. Instead, Gil hauled him to the couch, embracing him against his chest until Malcolm cried himself out. Jessica sat on the soft couch next to them, rubbing Malcolm’s head. Once the sobbing ending, Malcolm still held on, his breath coming in hiccuping gasps. Jessica forced herself off the couch, fetching a box of tissues off the bookshelves no doubt kept there because it wasn’t the first time someone broke down in this room. Tears trickled down her cheeks too but she dashed them away. With a toss of her head, he could see her shields coming up so she could be strong for her child.

Sitting back down, she tugged tissues out and pressed them against Malcolm’s arm. He shifted on Gil’s lap, taking them from her. Jessica moved toward the arm of the couch, giving him room to sit between them. Malcolm wiped his face, blew his nose, and took more tissues. He scooted off the couch to go toss them in the trash in the corner. Coming back, he looked at Gil, pressing a hand against his own chest circling it.

Gil glanced to Jessica who said, “He’s sorry.”

Gil shook his head, holding out a hand. “There is no need to be sorry. Shoulders are meant to be cried on.”

Jessica had told him that while he was in speech therapy, Malcolm was also learning sign language because his father had so badly damaged his voice box. In the hospital, before the D.A. told Gil he had to stay away, Malcolm had cried and cried, trying to process the idea of never speaking again. At ten years old, he faced being robbed of his voice. Gil had told him some of Audrey Hepburn’s best advice. ‘Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible.’ It had settled Malcolm then, gave him something to hope for, but Gil hoped that the boy hadn’t seen his own doubt. 

At the moment, his doubts grew. In the hospital, Malcolm’s neck had been swathed in dressings. Now the red, raised scars bore witness to Whitly’s depravity. A U traced from ear to ear over his voice box and alongside that scar on the right another scar ran from ear to shoulder. Gil wished one of the dangerous people lodged in Claremont found Whitly when their guards had their back turns. It was an ugly thought he didn’t want in his head but he couldn’t dislodge it, not sitting on the couch trying not to stare at the deep scarring on Malcolm’s throat.

Unable to deal with that thought, Gil dug in his pocket, pulling out a piece of candy. He handed over the watermelon Jolly Rancher to Malcolm. “For you. And check me, see if I got it right.” Gil signed his name and Malcolm’s face lit up.

Smiling broadly, he nodded frantically.

“You’re doing better than me,” Jessica said. “I’m struggling with it. He uses his dry erase board too.”

“Give yourself a break, Jessica. You understood the sign for sorry. Language takes time,” Gil said. “You’re dealing with a lot, all of you.”

She took a deep breath in but only managed a nod as an answer.

“I was hoping to take you out to do something, Malcolm, you and your mom and your sister, if you’d like.” 

Bright-eyed, Malcolm nodded.

“What did you have in mind?” Jessica asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the Bronx zoo or the aquarium, something family friendly. If it goes well and you’re willing, I could take Malcolm out, just him and I.”

“We’ll see how it goes. I’ve never been to the zoo or the aquarium,” she said stunning him. Maybe it wasn’t something rich people did.

“Never?”

“My mother finds them unseemly. I take that back, I was there once for a charity concert performance at the zoo. I didn’t get a chance to look around. I would enjoy that trip, I think.”

“Good.” Gil blinked, half convinced before he arrived that Jessica Whitly would shoot all of this down. She seemed far too refined to be seen out with him. It wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. He was here to help her son who had bonded to him somehow as he held the boy’s hand out in the woods where he had nearly died. “I also have friends upstate that have a horse farm. Have you ever ridden a horse, Malcolm?”

Another nod of affirmation.

“How about you, Jessica?”

“I can but I don’t.” She gave him a look that said she wasn’t about to do so either. “You ride?”

“I can manage but the last time I went, my horse tried to knock me off with a branch twice. I think it was a sign.” Gil grinned, and Malcolm made a raspy noise. It took Gil a second to realizing he was laughing. “Oh, you like that? You won’t be laughing if we give you that kelpie. Do you know what a kelpie is?”

Malcolm nodded, still laughing softly. He rubbed his neck as if the effort of laughing hurt him. He picked up his white board and wrote, _Fairy horse_. 

“Exactly, very good. You know your Celtic fairytales.”

“Oh, he loves mythology and folk stories. If you go for the horses, you’ll have to take your sister, Malcolm. She can’t get enough.”

“I think my friends have ponies. I can ask once the weather gets a little nicer. It’s still pretty cold. I’m not sure what you and I can do. You’ll have to tell me things you like. I was thinking we could go out for pizza.”

 _Mom says no_! Malcolm pouted.

“Uh oh, sorry.” He should have asked Jessica first and now he regretted not doing so.

“I try to get them to eat healthy,” she replied, and he couldn’t think of much more boring as a kid than health food. “But given the circumstances, a little junk food can’t hurt. I suppose some pizzas can be healthy.” Jessica eyed him. “It won’t be, will it?”

Gil shook his head. “Probably dripping with cheese and pepperoni oil.”

 _Pizza!_ Malcolm scribbled quickly.

“We’ll think about it,” his mother said.

“And we can do non-food things, like maybe go to a festival or two… which now that I think about it are mostly about junk food like elephant ears and cotton candy.”

Jessica chuckled. “You are going to be an interesting role model, Gil. But be it on your head whatever happens when you add _sugar_ to Malcolm Whitly. I absolve myself of all responsibility.” She held up her hands.

“That sounds dire.” Gil chuckled.

“He’s a handful when he’s hyper.”

“I consider myself warned. How about this, we could go to a Yankees game.” 

Malcolm made a face.

“No baseball?” Gil asked surprised, and Malcolm stuck out his tongue. “Okay, no baseball. Do you like cars? I have a pretty cool car, and we can go to a car show.”

Malcolm shrugged, which Gil took to mean he was indifferent about cars. Wait, didn’t Jessica have a driver? Maybe Malcolm just needed to be introduced to cars properly.

“Well, we can try that once, and if you don’t like it, we’ll find something different to do. How’s that sound?”

Malcolm mulled it over and nodded.

“He likes ballet,” Jessica offered.

“Now there’s something I never actually seen live. We could try that too.”

Malcolm clapped his hands, and then pointed to the video game. 

“You want to play? You’ll have to show me how.” 

He wrote on the whiteboard. _You’ll never beat me!_

“I have been challenged.” Gil tapped his chest, eliciting another raspy laugh from Malcolm.

He looked at his now-dingy whiteboard, scowled and then signed something pointing to the ceiling. Jessica stood.

“He wants to take you on the tour of the house. He’s been talking about that ever since I told him there would be a chance you could come over some day.”

“It’s an impressive house.”

“The Miltons have been on this property since before the American Revolution. I’m fairly sure we sold guns to both sides.” She smiled wanly. “This house is Victorian. Come along, I’ll help give the tour. I just hope your room isn’t a disaster young man.” 

Malcolm shrugged. For Gil’s money, kids’ rooms should be a disaster. He followed them through the mansion, goggling at everything. At one point, in the second or third room that could have been a library or sitting room – while Malcolm looked bored and restless, no doubt wanting Gil to get upstairs to his room so he could show off – Jessica whispered, “We won’t be going to the basement. I’ll be walling up Martin’s study down there. He used to teach Malcolm anatomy but…the drawings he used were all ones he made during his…” She shuddered.

Gil put a hand on her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know about that.”

Jessica tented her fingers over her mouth, breathing out slowly trying to compose herself. “Anyhow that’s most of downstairs, let’s go up and see Malcolm’s room before he explodes.”

Her son rolled his eyes at her but he darted up the grand staircase like someone tied a rocket to him. She and Gil climbed slower. Jessica studied him for a moment before again whispering, “Do you know why he did what he did to our son? No one will tell me. I thought it would come out in the trial but then Sterling got that brought to an abrupt end. Does it have to do with why they had the audacity to question Malcolm in his hospital bed like he was daddy’s little helper?”

He nodded, not surprised that she hadn’t been told at first because they would have wanted to see if she already knew, had been complicit in her husband’s crimes. He knew they had gotten a social worker to be with Malcolm and some public defender while Jessica had been detained and questioned herself. He was fairly sure she was suing them. Gil worried though that Malcolm hadn’t communicated with her about some of this. What else had the boy bottled up?

Jessica gasped, pulling Gil to a stop. “Your face, you’ve lost all color.” She leaned against the rail, staring up at her son. “Go on up and make sure you don’t have clothes all over the floor, Malcolm. Gil and I will be right up.”

Malcolm hesitated but ran up. She took Gil’s hand. “What is it?”

“Jessica, Malcolm witnessed something. He hasn’t said anything?”

Jessica trembled, tears in her eyes. “Oh God…I never imagined…the therapist though Malcolm was holding something in deep. He’s been having such terrible nightmares, Gil. I assumed it was all about what he went through in the woods. There’s _more_?”

Her voice cracked, and Gil drew her against him, holding her tight. Like her son had done, Jessica wrapped around him crying, and he did his best to calm her.

“He found a girl in a trunk in you basement. The detectives couldn’t find evidence of her being there but that’s what The Surgeon said. He knew Malcolm had found out, and he’d hoped Malcolm would be interested in helping him with her. When Malcolm panicked instead, he and Watkins knew Malcolm was a danger. It’s why they tried to kill him. He cut through his voice box to silence him. Did you know Malcolm stabbed Watkins to get away from him?”

“No,” she sobbed. “How can this keep getting worse? What is this going to _do_ to my baby?”

“I wish I knew. He has you, Jessica. You’ll do anything to help him.”

Jessica peeled away from him, wiping her face. “He has you, too, doesn’t he? All he’s wanted since it happened was the man who saved him in the woods.”

“I’m here as much as you and he need me to be,” Gil said, meaning every word. All he had thought about for the last several months were how could such a small boy survive something so big and terrible. He had wanted to help any way he could and now he had a chance.

“It’s not possible for him to be all right after this. I wish…” she shook her head. “No I guess it might be worse had you killed Martin but I would give anything to make this better.”

“You are. You’re letting someone you don’t even know visit just because you hope I can make him a little happier. And I’ll tell you what I told Malcolm, nothing is impossible. I’m possible is right in the word. I believe that. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be fast but he can make it past this, Jessica, but only if we believe it. Without you, he’ll have no one to hold on to as he tries to move forward.”

“Without us,” she corrected him, shuddering. She tossed her hair back. “We better get up there. He’s not above spying around the corner, listening in.”

Gil wondered if that had been how the poor kid had stumbled onto what his father had been doing. “Okay.”

Hearing footsteps running down the hall suggested Jessica had been right about Malcolm spying. He sat on the edge of his bed as if he’d been there all this time waiting for them. His brow knitted when he spotted his mother’s reddened eyes.

Gil made a show of looking around the room to distract him. His bedroom was pretty damn spotless, and Gil wondered what a disaster meant to Jessica. The bookshelf seemed pretty overstuffed though, and Bayani, the sock monkey he’d given to Malcolm in the hospital sat on the pillow. “Nice room. I see Mom’s sock monkey is still watching over you.”

Malcolm reached back and picked up the monkey Gil’s mother had made when he’d been a little boy. He hugged it before settling it back on the pillow.

“He’s slept with it every night. Thank you for that,” Jessica said. 

“You’re welcome. That’s a lot of classical literature I see on the shelves. What else do you like to read, Malcolm?”

Gil watched the boy slowly sign for him. “Harry Potter, sure, that’s fun.”

Smiling broadly, he signed a little quicker. “Goosebumps?”

“I hate those books but he loves them. Explain to me why being scared is fun. He’s always wanted to go to a haunted house.” Jessica side eyed her child. “Maybe not anymore.”

Malcolm signed yes he still did.

“Maybe we’ll go some time if your mother thinks you’re ready. You’ve had enough scares for now.” Gil squinted at what Malcolm answered, wishing the boy hadn’t left his whiteboard downstairs or that his own struggles to learn sign language wasn’t taking forever. Oh to have a young adaptable brain again. “You’re tough? I can’t argue that! Have you ever read the Hardy Boys?”

Malcolm shook his head, and Gil knew what to bring next time.

“Encyclopedia Brown?” Another head shake, another book added to the gift pile. “Superheroes?”

“You’re not bringing him comic books, are you?” The scandalized expression on Jessica’s face nearly made him laugh.

“I don’t know. He might need a little Superman or Wonder Woman right now,” Gil replied, knowing he’d have to sit down with Jessica alone and hammer out what she would and wouldn’t allow him to offer to Malcolm. She had a very refined idea of what her son should be. Gil didn’t know how to be that, so what he’d have to offer would be the other side of the coin, not coarse per se but a little more everyday kid stuff. 

Her shoulders slumped a little. “You might be right.”

Malcolm pressed his fingers against his throat and startled them both by rasping out a rough approximation of “Mom…Gil…pee.” He scowled furiously as his ruined voice failed him, and he signed frantically.

Gil recovered faster than Jessica at hearing him try to speak. “Pizza?”

Malcolm finger spelled _now_ but Jessica paid no attention as she swept him up in her arms, kissing his cheek.

“You spoke! Oh, baby, you spoke!” She hugged him tight until he squirmed, embarrassed at her motherly display of affection.

As he wiggled free, Gil cupped the back of Malcolm’s head. “Your mother is just happy to hear you again. See? Remember what I said, it wasn’t impossible.”

Malcolm’s blue eyes clouded before the storm broke, spilling tears down his face. He signed _hurts_.

“It’s only been a few months, Malcolm. Healing takes time,” Gil assured him, knowing full well he might never regain his full voice again. It might always hurt him to talk. It was why the doctors had suggested Malcolm learn sign language. 

Malcolm sniffled, wiping his face.

“How about we go for that pizza now? Would you like that? I figure your sister is out being a princess so I’ll get you food fit for a king, how’s that?” Gil grinned and Malcolm mirrored it.

Jessica laughed softly. “I think we have different ideas as to what kings eat. Where would you like me to order it in from?”

“I was thinking about taking you both for a drive. Malcolm can see how cool my car is. It’s a 1967 Pontiac Le Mans, which probably means nothing to you but it’s a very cool muscle car. I know one of the best places to get a pie.”

“All right,” Jessica said, watching her son’s face glow with excitement. “How can we say no to that? Go splash some water on your face, Malcolm, and I’ll go clean up a bit myself.” When Malcolm disappeared into the bathroom, Jessica leaned in and softly said, “I can’t believe he managed to get two words out. It’s not his voice but I will take it.”

“He’s going to be all right.”

“Thank you for everything, Gil.”

“My pleasure, Jessica. Whatever I can do to help.”

Jessica studied his face before saying, “I think you just being you, Gil, is going to be enough.”

He flushed. “Thank you,” he said, hoping she was right. There was a lot of damage here to heal. This was just the first step but he was determined to see this through. No one had depended on him like this before. Gil hoped he was up to the task. Seeing Malcolm’s face as he reappeared from the bathroom, fortified Gil’s resolve. He could be the rock for this young man. He couldn’t wait to see Malcolm climb.


End file.
